CHAPTER X.

I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside the

sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, that with

slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills, to barricade

the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before me; the icy

wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines were scattered

around; and the solemn silence of this glorious presence-chamber of

imperial Nature was broken only by the brawling waves, or the fall of

some vast fragment, the thunder sound of the avalanche, or the cracking,

reverberated along the mountains of the accumulated ice, which, through

the silent working of immutable laws, was ever and anon rent and torn,

as if it had been but a plaything in their hands. These sublime and

magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was

capable of receiving. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling;

and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and

tranquillised it. In some degree, also, they diverted my mind from the

thoughts over which it had brooded for the last month. I retired to rest

at night; my slumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the

assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day.

They congregated round me; the unstained snowy mountain-top, the

glittering pinnacle, the pine woods, and ragged bare ravine; the eagle,

soaring amidst the clouds--they all gathered round me, and bade me be at

peace.

Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All of

soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every

thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the

summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those

mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil, and seek them

in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? My mule was

brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of

Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and

ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. It

had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy, that gave wings to the soul,

and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. The

sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the effect

of solemnising my mind, and causing me to forget the passing cares of

life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well acquainted with

the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary

grandeur of the scene.

The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short

windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the

mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the

traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken

and strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning

upon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other

trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of

snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is

particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in

a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw

destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or

luxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene.

I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers

which ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite

mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain

poured from the dark sky, and added to the melancholy impression I

received from the objects around me. Alas! why does man boast of

sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders

them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger,

thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by

every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may

convey to us.

We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.

We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.

We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,

Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;

It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,

The path of its departure still is free.

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;

Nought may endure but mutability!

It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some

time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered

both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated

the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven,

rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and

interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a

league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The

opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I

now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;

and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess

of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, or

rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose

aerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering peaks

shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before

sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed--"Wandering

spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow

me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the

joys of life."

As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,

advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices

in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his stature, also, as

he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled: a mist came

over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me; but I was quickly

restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape

came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch

whom I had created. I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait

his approach, and then close with him in mortal combat. He approached;

his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and

malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible

for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this; rage and hatred had at

first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him

with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.

"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me? and do not you fear the

fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, vile

insect! or rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust! and, oh! that I

could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those

victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!"

"I expected this reception," said the dæmon. "All men hate the wretched;

how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things!

Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art

bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You

purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty

towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If

you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace;

but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated

with the blood of your remaining friends."

"Abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! the tortures of hell are too

mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! you reproach me with

your creation; come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so

negligently bestowed."

My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the

feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.

He easily eluded me, and said--

"Be calm! I entreat you to hear me, before you give vent to your hatred

on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to

increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of

anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made

me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine; my joints

more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to

thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my

natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which

thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other, and

trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and

affection, is most due. Remember, that I am thy creature; I ought to be

thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy

for no misdeed. Every where I see bliss, from which I alone am

irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.

Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous."

"Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and

me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight, in

which one must fall."

"How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable

eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe

me, Frankenstein: I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and

humanity: but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor

me; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me

nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary

glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the caves of

ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the only one

which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder

to me than your fellow-beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my

existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my

destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no

terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my

wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them

from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that not

only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed up

in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do not

disdain me. Listen to my tale: when you have heard that, abandon or

commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me. The

guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they are, to speak in their

own defence before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein. You

accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience,

destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I

ask you not to spare me: listen to me; and then, if you can, and if you

will, destroy the work of your hands."

"Why do you call to my remembrance," I rejoined, "circumstances, of

which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and

author? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw light!

Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you! You have

made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power to

consider whether I am just to you, or not. Begone! relieve me from the

sight of your detested form."

"Thus I relieve thee, my creator," he said, and placed his hated hands

before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; "thus I take from

thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me, and grant

me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this

from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of

this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon

the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends to

hide itself behind yon snowy precipices, and illuminate another world,

you will have heard my story, and can decide. On you it rests, whether I

quit for ever the neighbourhood of man, and lead a harmless life, or

become the scourge of your fellow-creatures, and the author of your own

speedy ruin."

As he said this, he led the way across the ice: I followed. My heart was

full, and I did not answer him; but, as I proceeded, I weighed the

various arguments that he had used, and determined at least to listen to

his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my

resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my

brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.

For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards

his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I

complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with his

demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite rock.

The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend: we entered the

hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy heart, and

depressed spirits. But I consented to listen; and, seating myself by the

fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began his tale.

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